The Verdict
by inspiiration
Summary: Dramione. Summary to come. Rated M for later chapters.


A/n: Hello! This is the first long fic that I've written so please feel free to tell me if you think anything could be improved!

It was long into the night before Hermione woke herself from a daydream to realise just how long she had been sat in her lonely office. She lifted her weary head and peered from her typewriter with blurry eyes to everything else but her sheet of parchment. Looking aimlessly around the obscurely lit room, her eyes landed on the grandfather clock in the corner. An inaudible sigh drew itself from her chapped lips as she read '3:15' from the clock. Apart from that the smell that she emitted (that could easily be fixed with a cleaning spell), Hermione found no reason to go back to an empty home filled with dusky memories and a musky smell.

'Home'; what does it mean, exactly? Is it the place where you find your soul mate at the end of the day? An idle, overweight half-wit dressed in the same clothes as last week and an untameable nest of ginger hair piled atop his head? Once or twice, she came home to him sprawled across the floor, drool escaping from his mouth, surrounded by a collection of dirty laundry, pages of newspaper and his wand split into three.

Ron had proposed to her after the first time they had sex when they were eighteen... the morning after she lost her virginity. Both the sex and the proposal was awkward and unromantic. When she came out of the bathroom in the morning, she found him in his boxer shorts on one knee. Hardly being awake five minutes and silently cringing at the thought of the night before, her immediate response was to stop dead in her tracks and laugh, then accept his 'proposal' out of pity. She had no idea what she was letting herself in for. People let go of their childhood for a reason.

Six months later, they were married after the relief of a quiet wedding and the real struggle began.

She clenched her eyes shut and grinded her teeth at the thought of having to go home to _that _even once more. Opening her eyes again, she restored a little faith in herself remembering that the divorce had been made official last week. Momentary bliss washed over her like a cool shower on a hot day.

And now, a twenty year old Hermione Granger glared down at a monstrous amount of paperwork that was mocking her from the oak desk. When she was appointed a high judge for the Wizenagemot, she had expected to get the most exciting and strangest cases, but so far, it was mundane to say the least. The only thing that had met her expectations was the work that was seemingly everlasting.

This wasn't at all what she had planned to pursue when she left Hogwarts, but there were parents who had their partners murdered and they were desperate to support their families so jobs where in short supply. Not to mention the aftermath that remained with her after the war, consisting of more than just scars. There was anger. And lots of it. She felt cheated that so many Death Eaters were allowed to do what they did for so long and the Ministry weren't doing enough to fix it. The legacy of Cornelius Fudge was a constant atmosphere of disappointment and betrayal and not much else. How many deaths could have been avoided if Bellatrix Lestrange was locked up again as soon as she escaped Azkaban? An unbearable amount of people were killed, tortured, orphaned, injured and for _what_?

Since she was invited to work for the Ministry two years ago as a lawyer, the cases she generally had to deal with were Death Eaters desperately trying to justify their actions before being condemned to a lifetime in Azkaban. Defending them when there was quite literally nothing to defend was mentally draining for Hermione. How do you defend someone who you spent your entire young life fighting against... who sought out to kill one of the few people that mattered to you?

Of course, it _was her_ who had managed to convince the Wizenagemot that Snape was an innocent man when it was believed that he was one of the most loyal followers of the most evil wizards of all time. Even though she could never forgive him for the insecurities he caused her when she was a child, he was innocent and that was what she was there to prove.

Since she had started this job, she realised just how innocent Harry was and just how mindless Voldemort's destruction was. She was able to look into the war, that had caused her so much pain, in more detail. As much as it continued to anger her, she felt as though she had accomplished something by understanding everything better now.

She fell into a daydream and the words on the parchment began to become blurry and shake around; they got bigger and bigger and more unfocused until Hermione realised her head had hit the pile of paperwork. With no effort to pick herself back up, she surrendered to the need to sleep. What filled the room then was a lonely 'tick' coming from the corner, a flicker of dying light, and a sad, overworked soul taking a few stolen hours of escape.

Silence.

Chaos.

A sharp, green light shot from Draco Malfoy's wand as he thrust himself forward and roared like a wounded puma. Not once did he take his eyes off of his target... except for when the man flopped to the floor at his feet. After that, his eyes were on the absent space where he stood moments ago.

The Malfoy son lowered his wand with white knuckles and protruding veins from his sliced hands. His face was a tragic, explosive display of raw misery, overdue release and mindless anger. Sweat and hot tears washed the blood down his face and into his gritted teeth. His eyes shimmered with tears but what was in them was pure rage. Ugly, throbbing veins protruded from his forehead which only made his thick migraine grow stronger.

A few seconds ago, he had the overwhelming need to smash, to break things, make things fly and hit the wall and relish the way it broke from the force of his throw. The anger that was bubbling inside him had exploded like lava and then simmered. It was frightening that the only way he could satisfyingly release his anger was to claim a life.

He didn't breathe. Nor did he blink. The aftermath of his lung tearing scream still echoed around the lonely manor. For what felt like a year, he simply stood there how he was; his right arm was half-lowered and one leg was braced before the other.

Surrounding him was a setting that was vaguely familiar to his father's office, except there were shreds of broken glass flung across the marble floor. The polished table was split into two pieces, straight down the middle and the throne-like chair was upside down. Everything in that room was broken, including the one remaining man that stood above a dead body.

The only thing Draco could hear was his own heart ramming against his chest... the only thing reminding him that he wasn't dead.

As more time passed, his jaw fell and he began to realised what had happened a matter of seconds ago. He took one shattering breath through his teeth and shivers propelled through his body. The body before him, that was barely dead, was a familiar one. With burning eyes, he forced himself to look at the mess he made. It stared back at him with eyes that, even in death, still radiated hatred and anger curtained by a mass of long, white-blond hair. Draco Malfoy found himself unable to tear his eyes away from his father's body. The one he had put there.

Suddenly, he blinked the tears from his eyes that he didn't know were there as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards him. Everything was swirling and in slow motion. Everything was so real and yet not quite there. It was only when he felt his mother push past him that he snapped into reality.

"Luc... Lucius?" Her voice hissed and crackled as though she couldn't quite make her words audible. "Lucius!" Tears stung her grey eyes as Narcissa Malfoy fell to her knees before violently shaking her husband and lifting his torso to hold him together like a broken antique. Her voice elevated and she was becoming more manic. Beneath his mother's screaming, Draco could physically do nothing but fall to the floor and urgently clasp his hands over his mouth whilst clawing at his dampened face to avoid another gut-wrenching scream. Vomit boiled at the back of his tongue that he was struggling to keep down. Never had he felt more vulnerable. Narcissa sniffed and seemed to pause for a few seconds... Draco's pulse quickened. She slowly turned her head to look at the man who had never looked more like a boy, curled up in a corner with eyes stained with tears, looking back up at his mother.

With very little grace, she stumbled to her feet and staggered over to him. She lowered herself to his level calmly... but what was in her eyes was anything but calm. Draco felt his heart begin to tear as she brought her face very close to his and hissed through gritted teeth with slowness that could only be compared to Severus Snape.

"Get... out."

That was it. That was the confirmation that everyone who he thought could love him had those feelings no longer, if they were even there in the first place. Draco scrambled to his feet and stood there for a second, his mother still perched on the floor at his feet. His scratched and scarred lungs let out enough air so that the word "bye" could be deciphered, but whether she heard it or not, he didn't know.

Everything from there was a blur; he didn't remember running down the dark hallways and the staircases and out of the door. He didn't remember fleeing from the Malfoy land in the pouring rain and leaving behind his entire life and family.

Rain battered his body as he ran through the forest and mud covered his feet... he hadn't even a pair of shoes to his name now. Where would he go? Running until he could run no longer, he sunk to his knees in the mud and clawed at his face. A scream, louder than the last, forced itself from his burning lungs as he punched the ground until his knuckles were filthy and bloody.  
>"Fucking... fuck, what... have... you... you fucking... ARGH!" In that moment, he was confused, angry, alone and vulnerable... and muddy.<p>

He shut his eyes and tried to relax... tried to ignore the throbbing pain that invaded his head and think for just a second. Only one idea came to his head of where to go and it made his stomach churn to even consider it. But, he had no choice. He closed his eyes to imagine an isolated house and a small garden with a dilapidated shed in the corner. Suddenly, he was whirling through a vortex and being thrown this way and that. If he didn't know he was apparating, he would think he was travelling through his mind. When he re-opened his eyes, the garden he imagined was around him.

The rain had subsided here and the sound of light dripping was almost calming. Draco peered up at the quirky stone house with dark eyes and silently despised himself for being forced to seek refuge with his Aunt Andromeda. His chest rose and fell as he worked up the courage to drag himself to the patio door. Peering through the crack in the curtains, he saw nothing but an unoccupied dark room. He guessed it must be around 4 in the morning... the sky that was so dead and dull when he fled from the manor was now transforming into a grey-navy colour; the darkest shade of day. Draco unenthusiastically rapped his knuckles on the glass door several times but expected no response. He wasn't disappointed. Instead of bringing himself to try again, he turned around to peer around the garden and plan where to sit and wait for the morning. Without realising it, he sunk to the floor with his back against the wet glass. He couldn't focus on anything. With every throb in his head, his eyes jumped and the scene became blurry. He was an instrument of emotions with no one on his side, he was neither a soldier of light or dark anymore. A man of twenty, guilty of his father's murder, homeless, seeking refuge at an aunt's house who most likely hated the sight of him. Draco Malfoy wallowed in self-hatred and misery as his eyes fell shut and he slipped into an uneven sleep.

First chapters are always far too wordy, I'm sorry, hope you liked it though! Reviews are welcome!


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